Fresh rosemary plucked from my daughter’s hand as she was fussing over a pan of balsamic, garlic, and honey chicken. She volunteered to cook Christmas dinner as her gift to me. She was worried she couldn’t afford to buy gifts. Her academic course load was heavy this semester, I suggested she drop her campus job and focus on classes. She didn’t need to worry. I told her I’d only accept her gift of a meal if she was doing it from the heart and not because she felt obligated to give me a gift, holidays with her is gift enough. She worked so diligently, on her feet for hours, bent at the sink, washing and chopping and peeling and searing. It was delicious. Having her here to share it with was best.